Nightmares
by xXxThe Phantom's RosexXx
Summary: Sometimes it takes someone special to make the nightmares go away. Rated: Kt-T for flashbacks
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Nightmares

**A/N:** Hi. So this isn't exactly realistic but I liked the idea so here it is. Takes place, obvious, after this past episode.

**Tagline:** Sometimes it takes someone special to make the nightmares go away

* * *

**Chapter One**

She sat at her desk, her head propped up against a hand, her eyes glazed with nostalgia. Jethro Gibbs couldn't help but take notice. She had experienced unimaginable things in that camp over those three months. He had no idea what they had done to her but whatever it was, it broke her. She wasn't the same.

"Ziva," Gibbs walked over towards her desk and placed a hand on her shoulder, rattling her awake from whatever memory she had fallen back into, "Ziva. You alright?"

"Yeah," she nodded, shaking the sleep from her voice, "Fine. Nothing to worry about."

"I am worried. Have you even slept at all since you've been home?"

Ziva looked down at the file upon her desk. She could barely meet Gibbs' eyes – something she wasn't quite used to not being able to do. She had always been tough – tough enough to match Gibbs, but not today. He looked at her as if seeing through her shaking, scarred body. That terrified her.

"N-no," she answered honestly, "I can't. Each time I close my eyes, I think I am there again. It's illogical and immature but it's like a nightmare I have to relive every second of every day."

"It's not illogical," Gibbs shook his head, "You went through a lot and it may take time to heal. DiNozzo!"

Tony shot up from his desk, his head perking up like a chicken's. McGee found the scene rather amusing. Ever since Ziva had gotten back, Tony had quietly waited in the shadows for something to do. It was like he _needed _to do something to help her, despite the fact it was him that rescued her. Saving her life just wasn't enough for him.

"Sir?"

"DiNozzo, take Ziva to her apartment and help her get some of her things in order then take her to your place. She's going to be staying there with you for a while."

"What?" Ziva demanded, her voice clipped with an iced anger, "I am _NOT _staying with Tony. I do not need a babysitter, Gibbs. I can take perfectly good care of myself, you know. I have been doing it most of my life."

"_Ziva_," Gibbs' voice was calm but demanding, authoritative, "You need to be with someone. You and DiNozzo haven't even spoken since we got home and I think it will go everyone some good. Besides, having someone there will make you feel safer. Hopefully you can get some sleep. Now go, McGee and I can hold down the fort."

"_Great_," McGee muttered under his breath.

Ziva looked towards Gibbs with pleading eyes but knew there was nothing she could do. It did make sense to be with Tony. Having someone to stay with would be a comfort. Her apartment was cold and the stench of murder clung in the air. All because of Tony.

She glared at him as if this whole thing were his fault.

"So, roomie, ready to hit the road?" He asked, trying to get a smile out of her.

"Okay, DiNozzo, let's go over some ground rules. If I am going to be staying with you, you are going to sleep on the floor or the couch, I don't care which. I get the bed though. Also, I am still angry with you and am going to try to get through these next few days without pulling my gun on you. If you so much as interfere with my daily order of things, I will be tempted to shoot you. if you so much as get within five feet of me…"

"You will be tempted to shoot me," Tony rolled his eyes, "I get it. Let's just view this as any other job Gibbs would have us do. Remember our cover jobs?"

"I am not going to pretend to be your fiancé again, Tony."

"I'm not asking you to. I am only saying that this is a job and this is something we _have _to do. Might as well be as civil as we can, right?"

"I will be civil when I am ready to be civil," Ziva grabbed her bag from under the desk and followed Tony to the elevators.

"So," Tony punched the number on the elevator wall, "What do you…"

"You're talking to me."

"So?"

"Rule number five of us living together: do not speak to me unless I have asked you to."

"Oookay," Tony backed off. She had been through a lot, he shouldn't push her – even he knew that. But something just bothered him. When she got back, McGee, Abby, and even Gibbs had given her a hug and told her how much she meant to them. He hadn't gotten to say anything.

He was starting to miss the truth serum – at least when talking to Sallem (**A/N: I don't know how to spell his name so could someone please tell me in a review. It'd really help because he's going to be mentioned a lot.**), he could get things off his chest, rather he wanted to or not.

Ziva slid the key in the lock and made her way inside. Tony followed her, taking a look around the apartment. It was still a mess – broken glass, books, plants tossed on the floor. Of course forensics cleaned up a lot but Ziva hadn't even bothered to put any of her own personal items back in place.

Tony walked over to one of the plants and pulled it back up in its place. He continued to walk through the apartment, until meeting up with her in the bedroom. She was digging through her closet, pulling clothes out and placing them neatly in a suitcase.

"Need help?"

"Talking."

"Sorry."

He couldn't stand this. Sure, Ziva was a handful but he _really_, really missed her. It had been months that he had gone without pushing her buttons and he couldn't stand not speaking with her. He hadn't gotten to tell her that he missed her, that his life would be shit without her, and that he wasn't lying when he said he couldn't live without her.

Of course if he said any of that now, it would definitely mean a gun to his throat again. That reminded him: Why hadn't Gibbs confiscated her damn gun before sending her to live with him?

"Can you grab some towels from that closet please?" Ziva asked, nodding towards the closet across from the bed.

"Afraid to use my towels?"

"Who knows what kind of diseases you have. I have had vaccines for rabies and tetanus but I haven't been vaccinated for whatever it is you have."

"That's real mature, Ziva," Tony rolled his eyes but found himself digging towels from the closet.

"I think that's about everything," she began to zip up her suitcase, "Now do you have anything that constitutes food at your place or am I expected to provide my own nourishment?"

"Uh…" Tony blanked. He didn't really have anything. Sure there was beer and frozen pizza but something told him Ziva David wasn't a beer and pizza kind of girl, "I have take out numbers."

"That will be fine. And this is only going to be a few days, Tony. I don't want you to get used to me living with you. It's _very _temporary and I don't expect to be babysat. I can take care of myself and I _don't_ want to be patronized, understand?"

"Wouldn't even think of it," Tony grinned, reaching to take her luggage. She quickly slapped his hand away – hard! "Ow!"

"I told you don't patronize me. I can carry my bags just as well as I could before…" she didn't bother finishing her sentence.

"It isn't patronizing, it's being a gentleman. Besides, I would have offered before this summer."

"You would not have," Ziva argued, grabbing her bag and hauling it towards the door.

"Alright, so maybe I wouldn't have but I – _we _– almost lost you and I think we all need to stop taking you for granted."

Ziva stared at him as if trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle. Tony DiNozzo confused her more than any other guy she had ever known. Rolling her eyes, she hauled her suitcase to the door.

The ride to Tony's apartment was completely silent. Ziva busied herself by glaring daggers out the windshield. She couldn't believe Gibbs was making her stay with Tony. Why couldn't she have stayed with McGee or Abby? Heck, she'd rather stay with Duckie than with Tony! But like he had said, it was just another job. They might not like it but it was something they'd both have to tolerate.

Tony clenched the wheel in his fists and allowed himself, for a second, to pretend it was Ziva's neck. This week was already tough enough without her driving him crazy. Sure, she drove him crazy all the time but mad-crazy was different than usual-crazy. Mad-crazy was something Tony hated more than anything.

The car pulled into the apartment complex parking lot and they both hopped out. Ziva pulled her suitcase from the backseat and followed Tony towards the elevators.

"Can I speak?"

"Fine," Ziva spat out the word as if it were a foul taste in her mouth.

"The place is a bit of a mess…"

"Of course it is, it's yours. I highly doubted I was going to see polished marble tile and spotless counters."

"I can clean it up if you want…"

"Don't," Ziva held up a hand, "Tony, do me a favor and pretend I am not even there, okay? I don't want to make a fuss."

"Too late," Tony mumbled as he swung the door open for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: To those who say Ziva is OOC, there is an explanation for that and if you would wait for chapter two, you would have heard and understood that instead of just yelling about it. Ziva is angry and yes, that is OOC but there is a reason behind it. So here you go – the reason. **

**Chapter Two**

Ziva glanced around the apartment. It was a mess – dishes piled high in the sink with food crusting the edges, a carpeted floor that hadn't been vacuumed in who-knows-when, and Tony, standing in the middle of it all.

"Home sweet home," he grinned, showing off proudly his domain, "What do you think?"

Ziva rolled her eyes and pushed herself past him towards his bedroom. Once inside, she glanced around again. The bed was made, that was something, and surprisingly enough, everything was in order. Ziva eyed the bed suspiciously.

"Do you have any Lysol?"

"Why?" Tony asked, defensively.

"You are Tony DiNozzo, one-night-stand extraordinaire. I don't know what's in that bed about as much as you do so do you have Lysol or not?" Ziva crossed her arms over her chest and waited patiently.

"The bed is clean. I washed the sheets the other night and no one has slept in my bed since…well…in months."

"What? No summer romance?" She asked, her ice chilly with sarcasm.

"Didn't have time." _I was too busy worrying…_

"Surprising," Ziva heaved her suitcase upon the bed, "Well, now what?"

"I am not exactly sure," Tony shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly, "Um…movie?"

"And take-out?"

"Wow-Wow-Ming's?"

"Chicken fried rice?"

"And a side of egg rolls?"

"You remembered?"

"Yeah well…" Tony wanted to say something else but couldn't think of what to say. He remembered their past movie nights. Every Friday night that they had finished a big case, he would invite her over for take-out and a movie. Afterwards, he'd walk her to her car and she'd leave. She was the only girl who had ever been to his apartment without staying overnight. That would change tonight.

Ziva would stay here, with him. He would sleep on the floor, she would sleep in the bed. For some reason, Tony couldn't stop thinking of how weird that was. It shouldn't be, but it was.

"I'll go call take-out."

"I'll go through your movies and see if you have anything good."

A few moments later, Ziva found herself scanning the rack of DVDs hopelessly looking for one. Her mind was elsewhere though, back to the camp. It seems like no wonder what she was doing, saying, or thinking, her mind forced her back to that camp, to that cell.

"_Tell me everything."_

"_I have," Ziva answered, her voice broken and weak._

_Salim glared at her, almost smirking, "You haven't told me what I need to know most. You tell me that your team isn't looking for you, that they aren't bothering to. I find that hard to believe."_

"_It is true. They don't care if they find me or not. I did horrible things back there. I am worth not finding."_

"_Somehow I don't believe you."_

_He rubbed the blade of his machete, grinning as it gleamed. Ziva's breath caught in her throat. It wouldn't be the first time he had used the knife on her but usually he waited. Spaced it out. Allowing her the opportunity to rest from blood loss and pain. Not any more._

_Her one please was stripped away as a blade flickered in the light before writing its scarlet signature in her bare flesh._

Ziva winced at the memory. She quickly grabbed the first movie she saw – Saving Private Ryan.

"You want to watch that?" Tony asked, nodding towards the movie.

"Hmm?"

"The movie. You want to watch it?"

"Yes," Ziva nodded not as confidently as she had hoped, "It's a good movie. Did you order us food?"

"Mmhmm, it should be here in about fifteen minutes."

"Oh…okay," Ziva nodded, still shaken from the memory.

"What's up, Zi?"

"I _don't_ want to talk about it, Tony," her words were clipped, her usual tone had taken a harsher note.

"Alright then," Tony backed off, knowing better than to push her.

"They cut me," Ziva finally said, walking towards the couch.

"What?" Tony's eyes bulged.

"With a machete. Over, and over, and over again. Not enough to kill but enough to weaken."

"Zi…"

She sat down and lifted her long-sleeved shirt to reveal red cuts across her arms. They had been stitched up neatly with perfection that Tony instantly recognized.

"Duckie."

"I saw him once I first got back. I didn't want anyone else to know."

"And you're telling me?"

"For some reason, I think you have to."

"What else?"

"What?"

"What else did they do to you?"

"Tony," Ziva did her best to smile, "I don't want to scare you."

"Three months too late, Zi."

Ziva sighed and rolled up pants' legs to reveal cuts, bruises, and welts. "He had a club too."

Tony's jaw tightened, "Zi…"

"He had matches, a club, his knife, barrels of water to try and drown me to talking. Have you ever felt your lungs burst, DiNozzo?" Tony shook his head. "It's even worse than any knife, any match, any club. Water rushes into your lungs swelling them until they are almost to the point of breaking. When they are about to shatter, you are pulled out for a second or two, and then shoved back in."

"Ziva."

"'_Ziva_,'" she sighed, "I thought I'd never hear you say my name again."

"Oh so you missed me now?" Tony raised an eyebrow, "Hmm…what happened to you wanting me dead?"

"Tony," Ziva adverted her eyes, "Not now."

"If not now, when?"

"Tony…"

The doorbell rang and Tony excused himself to go and answer it. Ziva sat back on the couch, putting her head in her hands. She couldn't believe how broken she had been. She had experienced hell those past months and her body, her mind, her soul, was shattered.

Her anger boiled within her. Salim was dead, her father was somewhere unknown. The only person she had to direct her anger at was Tony. She did, in fact, hate being angry with him but sometimes anger was easier than weakness.

He had seen her so destroyed, so weak just a week before. She couldn't let him see her like that again. Anger was her mask and she was letting it fall. She had allowed Tony to see her scars, to hear what she had been through. Never again, she vowed. She wouldn't let her guard down again.

Ever since she was young, Ziva David had always been able to take care of herself. But she had needed Tony there, she had needed him to rescue her – rather she wanted him to or not.

He had never seen her so weak. She had been shattered and he had seen her. As much as she hated being angry with him, it was just easier. It was her mask.

"Food's here!" Tony announced.

"I'm not hungry," Ziva said, and stood from the couch, "I think I will just get a nice, hot shower…"

"Zi…"

"I don't want to talk about this!"

Ziva hurried towards the bedroom, shutting the door, and shutting Tony out.

Once in the shower, Ziva lathered her scars, her cuts, her bruises with the thick, musty soap. IrishHeat was the name of it. Ziva wanted to puke. The stench was too strong, too overpowering. She turned the heat up on the faucet.

The steam stung at her scarred flesh but she didn't even flinch. The pain was good, calming in away. It was a good feeling to know that she could feel. All she had wanted at that camp was death and now that she was alive, she cherished it. A second chance.

"_You whore! You filthy whore! Tell me, who the man is in your life?"_

"_I don't have a man."_

"_A pretty thing like you? You try and tell me that you don't have yourself a playmate?"_

"_I am too busy with my job."_

"_Tell me, one name. One person. The one person you wish you could see right now? This very second?"_

_Ziva gasped for a pained breath as she said, "DiNozzo."_

The memory brought tears to her eyes and she collapsed against the tile wall of the shower. The pain from the heat was practically unbearable but it was nothing compared to the memories – the memories that were to stay with her forever.

She had died in that cell and Tony, McGee, and Gibbs had resuscitated her – brought her back to life. It was a gift she could never repay them for.

But anger was easier than weakness.

So Ziva David hid her tears, allowed the salt to mix with the steam, as she stood amongst the boiling water, and sobbed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Tony sat on the couch, not really knowing what to do. If he went to talk to her, she might shoot him. If he left a plate out by the bedroom, she might shoot him. If he knocked on the door, she might shoot him. His options for consolation were highly limited. He couldn't exactly blame her though – Ziva had seen a lot in those three months and she had survived. Tony began to wonder if, in her shoes, he would have been strong enough to do the same.

The bedroom door creaked open and Ziva came out into the living room in an over-sized sweatshirt and jeans. She walked over to the couch and sat down next to him.

"I am sorry."

"Hmm?"

"I am sorry," Ziva sighed, defeated once again, "I shouldn't be angry at you but I am. It's just…it's easier for me to be angry than to show weakness, Tony."

"Hey, whatever way you deal with this is fine by me, just as long as you deal with it. Zi, you know I meant what I said, right? When I said I couldn't live without you?'

"Tony…"

"I had been given truth serum – I couldn't lie, Zi. I _meant _what I said."

Ziva fell silent, she stared down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. To be perfectly honest, Ziva wasn't sure she could have lived without Tony. The thought of him was what kept her going, at least the first couple of weeks. When things began to look hopeless, she began to think that he had given up on her. But he hadn't. He had risked his own life to save hers and Ziva just couldn't understand that.

"Why do you care so much about me, Tony? I do not deserve to be treated this way. I have been nothing but cruel towards you and yet, you have shown me nothing but kindness. I do not understand why."

"Honestly," Tony grinned, "I don't really understand why either."

"Well I think I am going to get some sleep. I will see you in the morning."

"Sure thing," Tony stood up and followed her to the bedroom to grab his pillow and a blanket.

"I am sorry for throwing you out of your bed," Ziva tried her best at an apology. It wasn't easy but she was honestly trying to be kinder to Tony. He hadn't deserved the way she had treated him.

"Don't mention it. Get some sleep, Zi."

"You too, Tony."

After he left, Ziva turned off the light and gently lifted the covers. She slipped in between the comforter and the sheets, relishing in the crisp, refreshing bedding. It had been so long since she had had a good night's rest and she silently prayed that tonight they wouldn't come.

They haunted her sleep, eating away at her memory. With each shut of her eyes, she was transported back to that room, in that cell, upon that chair. The sack upon her head, the knife against her flesh. It was a nightmare she would never awake from.

Slowly she placed her head upon the pillow and breathed in the scent of aftershave – cinnamon and mint and musk. She had never noticed the scent before until now and Ziva couldn't help but find it comforting. Like a familiar friend that she had long-since taken for granted.

While Ziva fell asleep, Tony was lying awake on the couch. He would never admit this to her, but the couch was highly uncomfortable in regards to sleeping. Too many knots, bumps, and pressure points. At least, Tony tried to blame his discomfort on the couch. In reality, the thought of Ziva in his bed was the most terrifying thing. She was asleep where he slept, her head on his pillow. The thought was nerve-racking.

_Ziva couldn't sleep. The concrete flooring was hard, cold, and uncomfortable. She had gotten used to her stench and her discomfort but she doubted she would ever grow accustomed to the lack of sleep. It had been a month and she hadn't slept at all._

_The door creaks open and Sallim walks in, strutting over towards her. He gives her a kick to her ribs and she doubles over in pain. She is broken._

"_Wake up," he orders. Ziva opens her eyes and stares at him, as if trying to make out an unfamiliar shape, a shadow of a man._

"_Now then, you are going to tell me just where exactly your team is."_

"_I have told you," Ziva replied weakly, "I do not know."_

"_See, I just do not believe that. Now you have one more chan_ce."

_Ziva couldn't answer his question, she wouldn't even if she had known. This was her pain to endure, her punishment for everything she had ever done: for not being loyal to NCIS, for not trusting Gibbs, for almost killing Tony, for not being there for Abby, for everything._

_She hardly even felt the pain as the knife sliced into her flesh. It was too familiar._

Ziva awoke with a start, letting out a gasp and glancing around the room, trying to remember exactly where she was. She was in the dark, alone. The bed was unfamiliar and the dresser. Where was she? As if suddenly hit by recognition, she shouted, "TONY!"

That was all Tony needed – that single cry – and he was off the couch and running into his bedroom. Ziva was sitting up in bed, a look of panic upon her face. He flipped the light on and went her.

"Zi, what's wrong?"

"I-I had another nightmare," she answered, ashamed with herself for being so weak. She had needed him, cried out to him. The humiliation was cutting.

"Oh, Zi," Tony let out a sympathetic sigh as he sat down on the bed next to her.

"It happens every night," she admitted, "I-I haven't slept in months, Tony. I fear…I fear I never will be able to. The memories are constantly with me, constantly reminding me of what happened there – the pain, the suffering. I can't escape from it."

"Shh," Tony wrapped his arms around her and realized that she was quaking. His jaw firmed with anger towards Sallim, "Zi, you're safe now, alright? I'm here and I am not going to _ever_ let something hurt you – do you understand?"

Ziva nodded and allowed her head to rest against his chest as he rocked her gently in his arms. He wasn't exactly sure what to do except be there and protect her. He couldn't erase the memories but he could at least be there for her to help her get through them.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Tony asked.

She nodded again. Quietly, Tony turned off the light and crawled into bed next to her. She nestled against him, relishing the comfort of him next to her. His presence was the biggest comfort, the greatest solace. And for the first time in three months, Ziva David fell asleep –

- in the arms of Anthony DiNozzo.


End file.
